Christmas Presents
by Sibylle1
Summary: A prequel about a young Little Joe, set in the fall of 1850 while Adam is away in Boston. A Christmas Story.


**Christmas Presents**

"Stupid dumb thing!"

Eight year old Little Joe threw the colored pencil across his room, and it smashed against the stone edge of his washstand with a sharp crack. Hearing that specific noise, the boy froze for a moment, then quickly got up from his chair, crossed the room, and picked the yellow pencil up again. Tentatively he probed its point with the tip of his left index finger. But it wobbled and then dropped out. Joe took his sharpener and spun the pencil around. Crack, the point broke off in the sharpener. Joe tried it again with the same result. And again. Frustrated he stamped his foot and gave up.

His gaze fell on the painting of a detailed clipper ship, done by his brother Adam, then dropped from the wall to his desk and the picture he'd been working on for the last three days. In a quick movement he grabbed it and crumpled it into a ball that he threw as hard as he could at the wastebasket. Before the ball had landed in the corner beyond Joe had left his room – slamming the door. He stomped down the stairs and out of the house into the sunny autumn afternoon.

Here he paused for a moment taking a deep breath. But when he heard an angry, "Little boy not slam doors, not be so noisy!" he didn't wait for their Chinese cook to come out of the kitchen and continue with his tirade, but rushed to the barn, grabbed his fishing pool, and fled out of the yard towards the creek.

OOOOOOOOOOO

"Where have you been, Joseph? You know you have to ask before you leave the yard. I worry about you."

Joe only examined his boots mutely.

"I asked you a question! And look at me!"

The boy raised his eyes to his father's face and mumbled, "Fishing – sir."

"Joseph, how often have I told you the same thing?"

The boy's gaze was back on his boots.

"Tell me or at least Hop Sing when you leave!"

Joe still didn't say anything.

"You hear me?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, Pa."

His father snorted. "Have you finished your chores and your homework?"

"Mostly – "

"You know I don't like it when you leave them so late. It's almost dinner time. Hurry up now. Chores and homework first, then pleasure! You know that. You are not a baby anymore, you need to follow the rules and shoulder your responsibilities like everyone else on the Ponderosa!"

"Yes, sir." Joe grabbed up his coat from the rack again and turned back to the door.

"And Joe, are you ready with Adam's Christmas present?"

"Mostly – " the boy answered just before the big door closed behind him.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Little Joe, Hoss! I'm packing, come with your things!"

A small figure appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Come on, Little Joe, where is your Christmas present for Adam? I'm packing the parcel."

"It's not finished yet."

"But Joe, you said the same thing yesterday and the day before. You know we have to send the parcel as soon as we can, and I'm not sure when I will find any more time for packing. Can you finish your present now?"

"Ah, Pa, it's so stupid to make Christmas presents in September! As bad as singing Christmas carols now when it's still fall," Joe said defiantly. "It's just wrong!" He started to turn away.

"Just wait, Joseph! You know why we have to send it early. Do you really want for Adam to be without anything from his family, all alone in Boston at Christmas?"

"It would be his own fault. It was his decision. And at least he is there with his grandfather," Little Joe grumbled.

"Joseph, that's enough. I thought you'd enjoy helping with the parcel. But it seems you can't be bothered to make any effort for others! Have you forgotten how much of his spare time Adam spent with you?"

"No! I didn't –" the boy blurted out.

In that moment Hoss came out of his room, carrying a carved pen box.

"Pa, here's my gift. I just gave it one last polish. Do you think Adam will like it?" The boy's round face shone with pride.

Joe caught a glimpse of the beautiful gleaming wood and twisted sharply away. As he tried to squeeze past his brother and escape he bumped into him instead. "Get out of my way!" he muttered.

"Hey, what's wrong with you, little brother?"

"Don't be so reckless, Joseph! Where are you going?"

"To my room. To do my homework first thing, just like you told me to yesterday," Joe almost shouted before he stormed through the upstairs hall into his bedroom.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Pa?" Having decided not to wait any longer, Little Joe descended the stairs almost noiselessly and stood in front of the desk where his father was working on the ranch's books. "Could you, please, sign this?" He held out an open notebook.

The frown and scrutinizing glare made his ears and cheekbones glow beet red.

"Joseph, again? We just spoke about your behavior after your outburst yesterday. And now this! 'I mustn't leave the schoolyard without permission,'" Ben read from a pageful of repeated lines in the notebook before him. "Does this mean you're sneaking away from school now the same way you do at home?"

"Yes, Pa," the boy whispered.

"You promised to be good. I'm so disappointed, Joseph."

Suddenly Joe's eyes filled with tears. "Pa, I tried, really. But everything went wrong! I know you're ashamed of me. I'm useless!"

"Joe? What are you saying?" Ben rose from his seat and came around the desk to join his son.

"Pa, I wish I could do things like Hoss and Adam …. " the weeping boy threw himself into his fathers arms.

Ben pulled his youngest closer and shushed him. "What do you mean, son?"

"I didn't even have enough money!"

Ben's expression was even more puzzled than before. "Please tell me in the right order, Joe. Will you?" Ben guided his son to his chair and sat the boy on his lap.

"I…I will. It's all gone wrong …. with Adam's gift. First … first I wanted to make Adam a picture. A real nice one! It was going to have Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus in his crib, and in the background all of us, riding our horses because we are herders, too, and there were herders when Jesus was born. And angels, and cows, and a donkey, and sheep. But the horses and cows didn't look right so I used the eraser but it smeared everything, and baby Jesus wasn't real sweet, and then Jesus' golden halo looked all green in front of Mary's blue dress. And then the lead of the yellow pencil got broken. The one from the pencil set Adam gave me. And then I crumpled up the picture and … "

"Sounds like a real complicated picture, Joseph. Don't know if I could draw all that." Ben interrupted the upset child.

"But Adam could!" Joe sobbed through fresh tears.

"Maybe, but drawing pictures is his special talent." Ben soothingly rubbed circles on Joe's back. "Where does the money come in?"

"Well, after Hoss showed you the pen box he made I broke into my cash box. I took all my money to buy Adam a book because reading is what he loves. I went to the store during recess and I found one. It's about Indians with a lot of pictures. But it was too expensive. A lot." The boy sobbed again. Ben held his young son closer to his chest until the sobs subsided.

"Joe, I would like to show you something." Ben slowly reached down to the bottom drawer of his desk.

The still sniffling boy turned his head.

"Here I keep my most special treasures," Ben said, opening the drawer. "All the gifts you and your brothers have given me. Look!"

Ben took a small item out and showed it on the palm of his hand. It was a little straw star.

Joe looked at it suspiciously. "Its points aren't the same length," he stated after a while. "This one is too short."

Ben nodded. "Adam made it for me out of dried prairie grass. Hoss' Mama showed him how. Not so easy to make, the grass could be sharp." Ben laid it onto the desk.

Again he took something out of the drawer; this time a small wooden figure, plump and crudely shaped: a sitting duck. "The first thing Hoss whittled. I love it and especially how it looks, it's so comically cross eyed."

The small boy sniggered as he examined the little duck.

"And here," Ben showed a small scrap of paper that looked worn and yellow. "That's Adam's first gift for me. He drew it when he was four years old while he was waiting for me in a boarding house with the landlady."

Joe looked at the picture intensely. "It's a standing frog, isn't it?"

"Yeah, and look at its big grin and its shiny teeth."

Now the young boy giggled freely.

"Pa, do you have something from me, too?"

"Sure I have. Look. The first real picture you drew. It was your Mama who gave it to me."

"Ups. Only a circle with a few lines."

"Yes, that's me. I was so proud to be your first model." Ben smiled.

"I don't remember doing this."

"No, you were real little - not yet two years old."

Ben seemed lost in memories while the boy on his lap touched cautiously the items on the desk.

"Do you know why I cherish those things, Joseph?"

Little Joe only looked questioningly at his father.

"They aren't perfect, Joe. Store bought gifts maybe are. But those are made with love and thoughtfulness. I can see and feel it. Do you?"

The boy nodded slightly.

After a while he asked, "Is carving Hoss' special talent, Pa?"

"Yes, it seems. He's better than all of us."

"And what's mine, Pa? Where am I the best?"

"We will see when you are older, Joe," Ben swept his finger over the little clumsy duck.

Both remained silent, comfortable with each other while the setting sun made the shadows of the furniture longer and longer.

"Pa?" Joe turned his head so he could see his father. "But what can I give Adam? What can I do? I would like it to be something he will use real often. Something to remind of me." And in a low voice he added, speaking into his father's shoulder, "I miss him."

"You know, I just thought of a Christmas present you could make. What if I buy Adam the book you picked out, and you make him a couple of bookmarks? That would be something he would use every day."

"How would I make them, Pa?"

"I will show you how my mother showed me. You need small strips of colored paper and two bigger pieces of heavy paper, one with slits in it. Then you weave the colored paper through the slits and finally you glue the second big piece on the back."

"But I'm not so good with scissors, Pa." Joe answered doubtfully.

Ben patted lovingly the small left hand of his son, "I'll cut the pieces out for you. A little help with Christmas presents is part of the tradition." Ben winked.

"I think I could do the rest of it," the boy stated hopefully.

"Why so dark?" The voice of their Chinese cook startled father and son. "Hop Sing bring lamp and then eat. Smoked trout! Little boy always bring best fishes!"

After dinner father and son stayed at the table, where Joe colored bright patches of paper, while Ben cut the main pieces for the bookmarks out. Ben eventually showed what his big hands had hidden: the bookmarks were shaped like fishes. He grinned at Joseph, "So Adam will be reminded every day of the best fisherman of the Ponderosa!"

And from that moment on father and son, as they worked together, began first humming and then singing Christmas carols, so that when Hoss, coming back from the fall market he had been allowed to visit with a friend's family, opened the door he was greeted by a loud "I wish you a Merry Christmas". And he felt the same warmth he always did on Christmas eve itself.


End file.
